


Stress

by DistracttheGoddess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Female Solo, Harry/Ginny implied, Male Solo, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistracttheGoddess/pseuds/DistracttheGoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The remnants of Dumbledore's Army have come up with a unique solution to the stressful times they are living in. When you, a Slytherin and Head Gil, happen on a scene between Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, what does that mean for your future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress

It had been an excruciating day. But then again, nowadays, they all were. That shiny Head Girl badge glistening on your chest next to your Slytherin crest dictated that you had to at least perform rounds once a week. Making sure students weren't out of bed and causing mischief wasn't your idea of a good time. Particularly since when they were caught the Carrows had created all new terrifying punishments based on blood status.

You were incredibly tired. To the point that you almost ignored the soft noise coming from the old Arithmancy classroom. You tell yourself that if there is someone in there, you can at least send them back to their beds unscathed. Who knows what would happen if they were caught by one of the “teachers.” Sighing softly to yourself, you peek in the crack of the door.

You were not prepared for the sight before you.

His face was buried between her legs. Her breath was coming out in whimpers. She had one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding herself up as she leaned back on the large desk. Her leg hiked up on his shoulder blocked your view of his face.

“Harry!” She gasped. “I'm coming, Harry!” Your eyes widen and think to the dark hair, the Gryffindor-red lined robe on the floor. But there's no way Harry Potter would come back to Hogwarts. And even if he did, you had a hard time imagining him getting down and dirty with his ex-girlfriend in a classroom while he's the most wanted criminal in their world.

The dark haired boy pulls back from Ginny's lap and you feel your jaw drop as Neville Longbottom's face comes into view. You feel conflicting pangs, one of lust and the other sharp and to your heart.

Ginny groans, flips her skirt down and lays back onto the desk. “Fuck, Neville. That was brilliant.” He wipes his chin and grins at her. “You want me to get you?”

“Nah.” he says standing and putting his robe back on. “I'll be alright.”

“Both Luna and Padma said you told them the same. It's not a fair system if you don't get anything out of if too.”

“I know. It's just stress relief. I'll be fine though. It's pretty late and you've got Muggle Studies with Carrow first thing. So just worry about you.”

She gets up off the desk and kisses his cheek before stooping down to get her bag. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”

You duck further into the alcove as Ginny slinks back into the hallway and hurries back to her common room.

You wait for Neville to pass by, but you hear him flop down into the teacher's chair instead. You chance it and peek back through the crack Ginny left in the door. He's opened his pants and is slowly stroking himself with his eyes closed.

Your breath catches in your throat and your thighs press together involuntarily. He runs his palm over the head and stifles a moan. Your fingers find the hem of you skirt. Almost without thought, your hand slides under and begins rubbing your ache. You hear Neville's soft breath become harsher. Your fingers fly trying to find your release before he finishes and leaves.

His closed eyes give you a bolster of bravery and you take a chance and glide the door open a few more inches.

Getting close and forgetting yourself, a quiet whimper escapes your lips. Neville's eyes fling open and in shock, stares at you in the doorway, hand up your skirt. You're fairly certain he has a perfect view of your hand frantically moving in your panties. An inane voice in the back of your head hopes that you chose cute underwear today.

Too close to the edge to make good choices, you don't stop. Eyes locked with yours, he continues touching himself. Your dormant hand reaches up to squeeze your breast over your blouse and Neville moans loudly. The sound shoots through you and you start to feel the familiar pull of coiling tension. The moment seems to last incredibly long. Him panting, his eyes devouring you in lust, and you, burning on the precipice of pleasure.

One glance down at his hand working himself sends you over the edge.

“Neville!” You cry, shattering. The force of your orgasm hits you, nearly buckling your knees. Your shoulder hits the doorframe in an effort to keep yourself standing.

“Fuck,” he moans and you see him shoot his load across the desk.

You close your eyes and lean your head on the door frame, your fingers working out your aftershocks. As your breathing returns to normal, you open your eyes and see Neville staring at you.

The force of what just happened hits you and, panicking, you back away, whisper “I'm so so sorry.” and take off running down the hall to your dorm.

You hear him shout, “Wait, please. Scourgify. Wait!” and a small commotion which you assume is him putting himself away and grabbing his bag. But you have no intention of having a little chat about whatever the hell just happened so you don't stop.

You make it to the head's common room in record time and breathing heavily, you sink to the floor. The clock on the wall tells you that Nott would be out on his rounds for at least the next hour. You breathe a sigh of relief knowing you won't be interrogated about your frazzled appearance, but your comfort is quickly replaced by anxiety when you realize that you and Neville Longbottom have potions together first thing tomorrow morning.

Your head thumps against the portrait behind you. “Fuck.”

 


End file.
